


A Shared Secret

by Fisticuffs



Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Russ, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, M/M, Omega!Milt, mpreg mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fisticuffs/pseuds/Fisticuffs
Summary: Russ should not have answered a phone call Milt should not have made, but he did. The night got away from him after that.





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> I want it noted that the acronym for this fic spelling “ASS” is unintentional. That’s just where we are. This is us now.
> 
> This is set somewhere before the finale. And prior to Russ and Holly doing it in the evidence lockup and starting their cute little thing. Before all that. Or else ignoring it.

Russ hated weeknights. They were a tease, if anything. He worked late and then he had the briefest window of free time before the cycle started over in the morning. It was enough time to stay up too late and hope— in vain— a good game might be on television. He kept something buzzing on the screen for a distraction and to put off bed, but he was contemplating giving up on that as well. His phone rang.

Russ looked at the display and saw the name of his all around favorite person. He considered not picking up, but with a tired groan, he rationalized, “Could be work,” and answered. “Russ.”

“Hey, Russ.”

He sighed. “Hey, Milt.”

“Hey, Russell?” Milt said over the phone, tagging a little question to it.

“Yes, Milton?” he replied.

“You’re a good man,” Milt told him. It was a random statement. Russ had done nothing to deserve the unsolicited praise.

“Are you drunk?” The man did not sound sober. He was tired, definitely. His words did not have their crisp, enunciated cadence.

“No,” Milt denied. “No, I was just...” He drifted off. “Thanks for the talk, Russ.”

“We didn’t talk about anything,” Russ grumbled.

Milt laughed. “No,” he said, “I guess we didn’t. Hey, thanks anyway, man.”

Russ rotated his phone upside down so he could release a big exhale without blowing it in Milt’s ear. He hated to ask, “Are you in trouble?” Milt did not answer, which was alerting. Russ sat forward and stood. “Do you... Do you need help?”

The other end of the line was silent, and Russ pulled back his phone to make sure the call had not ended. Milt was still there. “Yeah,” he eventually said, and it was more breath than speech. It was quiet. “Yeah, Russ, but I...” He sniffed. “It was a mistake to call. It was wrong of me. It was unprofessional. You have my most sincere apology, and hey, I’ll see you around the office, okay?”

“No, not okay,” Russ argued. He rocked on his feet, pacing on the spot. “Not okay, damn it. What the hell is this about? Are you all right?” Milt was not his best friend or anything, but Russ had a duty to help him if he was in trouble, not only as a cop but also as a human being. “Do I need to come over there? What do you need, what? You need an ambulance? You need the squad?”

“No,” Milt objected. “No, don’t... please don’t call anyone.”

“But you want me to come over?” He waited a long time for an answer.

“I do,” Milt whispered, “but please don’t. I shouldn’t have called, Russ. I shouldn’t have called. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?” That sounded ominous.

“Not okay!” Russ repeated. “Not okay, you bastard. You tell me what’s going on right now.”

“Goodbye, Russ.”

“Don’t you hang that phone up, you son of a bitch.” He did. Russ growled and yelled at the phone in his hand. “You son of a bitch! Son of a bitch.” There was no real choice in the matter. There was nothing Russ could do but grab his jacket and his keys, get in his car, and drive to Mister Perfect Agent’s house at almost midnight on a Wednesday. “Son of a bitch!” Russ slammed his front door.

After a very long fifteen-minute drive, Russ stood at a dead end hallway kicking a deceitful brick wall.

“Hey, Russ,” Milt’s voice said over an intercom. He sounded as genial as always.

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Russ’ me, you bastard,” Russ shouted. “Open the damn door.”

“No,” he denied, “that doesn’t seem most prudent.”

Russ banged a fist on the wall. He kicked it at the bottom and was grateful Milt did not have neighbors, though he was not above making a scene. “Open the door!” He beat it again. “You think that phone call we had isn’t probable enough cause for me to bust in there?”

“It isn’t,” the intercom said.

“Yeah, well... we both know I’m not above exaggerating the truth.”

“Please,” Milt asked, “don’t do this. It was a mistake to call. I made a mistake. Thank you for coming, Russ, really, but you can’t come in.”

Russ let the man’s plea float around his ears. He had permission to leave it alone and go back home. That was what he wanted more than anything. But he had that damn honor thing going on, and he could tell something was wrong. “Open the door, Milt,” he ordered. “Last chance.”

The wall held its position. It blocked Russ and denied him. Then hydraulics hissed and the door opened. He went inside the apartment. It was dimly lit and devoid of activity. Russ regretted not bringing his gun.

“Milt?” He walked through the entrance and it slowly closed behind him. “Milt?”

“In here,” he called.

Russ followed the voice into the den area. Milt was on the couch, sitting in front of the giant television with surround sound. He turned it off and Russ focused on him instead. Milt was dressed down as far as Russ had ever seen him, which meant he was wearing an undershirt and boxer-briefs. That was not the alarming part. No, Russ picked up on the urgent matter secondary but almost as immediately.

“Shit.”

“I tried to stop you from coming,” Milt said. He attempted to look confidently into Russ’s eyes, but his gaze fell more around his shoulder. “I didn’t want—”

“You’re in heat!” Russ exclaimed. It was a stupidly obvious assessment. “You’re omega!”

“Yes,” Milt uttered, “and yes.”

“How did I miss this?” To say Russ was surprised was an understatement. He felt completely railroaded.

“That’s the point of suppressants, Russ,” he said, acting as if they were in some middle school health class. “None of this,” by which he couthly meant heats or detection, “is obvious. I work hard to make people miss it.” For Milt, it was just another secret.

“Yeah, and for that matter, how did this happen?” Russ demanded. “How _could_  this happen?” Medications were so abundant and made so available in the modern age, not even a homeless person could go into heat.

“Stakeout,” Milt explained. “You remember that stakeout we did a few days ago?”

“Boring as hell assignment,” Russ confirmed. “Stuck in a car with you for seven hours. Yeah, I remember like it was two days, twenty hours ago. What about it?”

“It’s just that,” Milt said, “I... take my medication at night. I didn’t bring it with me. The stakeout was... spontaneous.”

“And taking it a few hours late caused _this_?”

“It caused a lapse in my coverage, yes,” Milt told him. “There’s a reason why these pills are supposed to be taken at the same time every day.”

“Then you put the car in drive and say, ‘Hey, Russ, I need to go pick up my goddamn pills.’” Russ carried on before Milt could chime in. “But not you, no. Special Agent Milt Chamberlain doesn’t want to be a bother.” He scoffed, perfectly annoyed by the man. “Well, what the hell do you call this?”

“I told you not to come,” Milt defended.

“And what now?” Russ asked. “You want me to drive you to the E.R. so they can put a stop to it?”

“I don’t think that’s advisable, Russ.” The rationale behind it gave him shame.

“What,” Russ snorted, “you think we can’t be alone in a car together? Think we’ll end up pulling over and screwing in some back alley?”

“Yes.” Milt did not mince words about the possibility. That was exactly what he thought. Omegas had to be cautious around such threats. They had to plan around them.

“Then I guess,” Russ sighed, “you’re not... gonna get in the car and let me take you?”

“No.”

“And obviously I won’t force you to do it.” He would never instigate someone’s fear like that, not even in their best interest. There were some things, as an alpha, Russ had a responsibility not to push. “An ambulance?” he attempted.

“No.” Milt no doubt had a similar justification against it. “Look, Russ,” he exhaled, “you can go. You should go.”

“Because if I stay...”

Milt finished the thought for him. “I imagine only one thing happens.”

“And if I go...”

Milt shrugged and dropped his hand down on the sofa. “I’ll get through it,” he said.

“No, you’ll suffer through it,” Russ stated. He could picture Milt writhing around unfulfilled, tormented, for days. It might have been appealing to some perverse fantasy if the thought did not make his stomach turn. No one deserved that, not even Milt Chamberlain. “Beer.”

“Pardon?” Milt stared at him with naked confusion. “Beer?”

“Beer,” Russ repeated. “I need a beer. I need... a lot of beer. Like, a lot of beer.”

Milt stood up and Russ took a step away. “For what?”

“Man, don’t make me say it,” Russ pleaded. He could do it, but he did not want to say it. “Just get me a beer.”

Grasping where Russ’s intention was straying, Milt said, “Russ, I can’t... ask you to do this.”

“Well, you did,” Russ said, “or you tried to anyway. You just chickened out before getting to it. That right?” He understood why he was there. He got why Milt made the late night phone call. “I didn’t know what you are, but you know what I am. Huh?” Milt did not need a ride to the hospital. He did not need a friend to talk with about his problem. He wanted an alpha, and Russ happened to fit the bill.

“But I didn’t ask,” he insisted. He stopped before taking that step, before starting something from which they could not return.

“I know.” Russ was grateful for that. He did not know how a spoken request would affect his decision. At least this way he got to feel like a good guy, a selfless guy, the hero. It was his idea to help, not Milt’s desperation that degraded him into asking. “Just get me the beer, all right?”

Slowly, Milt nodded. “I got some in the fridge.” He led them to it.

Russ almost felt pity that Milt lacked the resolve to continue arguing with him. It was difficult to talk a person out of something they needed. Russ offered a lifeline and Milt took it. They could end it in one day together instead of Milt suffering through a few of them alone. That was basic survival, and Russ respected the hell out of it. He liked seeing it because for the first time in their acquaintanceship, Milt was being completely honest with him, open with him.

The refrigerator was wide and perfectly organized inside. There was a colorful array of fruits and vegetables. Milt grabbed a beer from the bottom shelf. “Heavy...” He had trouble saying it. “Heavy, uh, intoxication can lead to temporary erectile dysfunction in some men,” he informed.

“Then that kills two of my problems,” Russ said. He would rather not carry through, but he had, at the moment, no excuse for backing out— no excuse except all the obvious ones. “I’m not... touching you... sober.”

“Whatever helps you, Russ.” He was frustratingly considerate. “But you might pass out if you drink too much.” He opened the beer and handed it over.

Russ drank a third of it in one long gulp. “If I pass out,” he said, “I give you permission to carry on without me.” It was probably the best option, if Russ were being honest. “I can handle myself.” He was no lightweight.

Milt stood awkwardly and nervously in the kitchen while he drank. What could he do but wait for Russ to reach a state where he wanted— or could tolerate— to touch him?

“I,” Russ announced, trying for a little levity in their gallows oppression, “am gonna do something I’ve wanted since the day we met.” Given their relationship— and especially their current situation— that could be anything from a kiss to murder. Milt was understandably anxious in wondering what it could be. Russ brought his hand forward, and Milt kept still. He put his fingers into that dark hair, and Milt let him. He ruffled it all around, twisting it up, and down, and into every direction. Russ only took his hand away when he was satisfied. Milt was a mess. His perfectly styled hair was a mess. “God, that felt good,” he said with a wide smirk. It looked good— damn good. Destroying Milt’s perfect hair was enough. It was everything.

“That’s it?” Milt questioned.

“Well, for _now_ ,” he said. “You wanna make it worse?” They would. Russ paced around while he finished his beer. “What’s the supply look like?” he asked. “How well are you stocked?” Milt did not understand his ambiguous code. “Condoms, Milt.”

“Right, uh...” He walked them to the bathroom, and with a show of poorly restrained guilt, opened the cabinet and handed him a box.

Russ shook the small box and rattled it around before opening the tab on top. It was not what he wanted to see. “There’s like three whole condoms in here.” He picked them up to verify and then dropped them again.

“Yeah, I was going to tell you to get more on your way over,” Milt said, “but then I never really invited you. I guess I didn’t get the chance to say.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Russ muttered. “Yeah, I guess so. Do you have any idea exactly how long three condoms will last us?”

“Well,” Milt considered, “most likely three rounds.”

“Laugh it up, wise guy,” Russ scoffed. “But unless you’re a ‘one and done’ sort of guy, this doesn’t end well.”

“I know how it will end,” Milt spoke. There were pills and procedures to get rid of that option, but the man was still troubled.

“I can’t... pull out when I’m about to finish.”

“I know.”

“Pulling out defeats the entire damn point.” Milt needed, or would need, a knot. It did not end without one, not in a timely, merciful manner. Most importantly, the sex would be completely pointless. “There can be no pulling out.”

Milt sighed and nodded. He knew that. They knew what it all meant. There were a few backup plans but only one would give them peace of mind during the fact.

“Closest drug store is three blocks away,” Russ said.

“What?”

“ _You_  can’t leave,” he explained, “but _I’ll_  be right back. Okay?”

“I believe that store is closed this late.” It was now after midnight.

“Then I’ll drive around until I find one.” Russ shook his car keys and headed for the front door. He was followed.

“Russ.” Milt grabbed his hand. His skin was hot, feverish, clammy. The ridges of keys pressed into Russ’s palm. “You’ve been drinking.”

Russ snorted. “One beer,” he said. “I’m not a freshman in high school.” He could hold his alcohol.

“You should walk,” Milt suggested.

“I can jog the three blocks,” Russ agreed, “but I am not running all over the city if that place is closed.”

“But you’ll drive all over the city?” To Milt, it sounded extreme. To Russ, it was a simple chore when weighed against the alternative.

“Yes.” Thus was his resolve. He snatched his hand away, and Milt let him go.

Fresh air ridded Russ of Milt’s scent and whatever slight buzz the beer gave him. He was fine to drive. Cruising down the vacant road with a clear head was the exact opportunity Russ’s brain needed to talk him out of the idea. It was insane. He was planning to sleep with Milt? Why?

When Russ saw the lights off in the pharmacy, and headed on to his next option, he knew the answer was because sleeping with Milt, helping him, was the right thing to do.

Russ hated doing the right thing.

He burned through forty-five minutes and crossed off a dozen pharmacies and convenience stores. His phone rang.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Russ,” Milt spoke, voice strained, “did you find some?”

“No, I haven’t found some,” he huffed. “You know how New York’s the city that never sleeps?” he rhetorically asked. “Well, Battle Creek’s the town that’s in bed by nine.” It was unbelievably frustrating. “How you doin’?”

“I’m fine.”

“How are you really doing?”

“Can you come back?” It was such a pathetic request, and the fact he spoke it at all gave away how desperate he was.

Russ hit his hand on the steering wheel. “Yeah, give me five minutes.” He hung up, hit the steering wheel again, and turned around. “Twist my arm to have unprotected sex with a good-looking guy,” he muttered to himself. “Twist my goddamned arm.” It would be fun and games tonight, scares tomorrow.

The brick wall opened before Russ even knocked. He walked into the still apartment.

“Milt,” he called. “Milt?”

“Bedroom,” he yelled.

“Of course.” Milt was into his ‘start without me’ phase.

Russ took a deep breath and headed in the most likely direction of an apartment he barely knew. He paused outside the door and prepared himself, but what he saw when he walked in far exceeded his pathetic imagination.

“Jesus Christ,” he uttered.

Milt lay in the center of a wide mattress with gray sheets, his bare skin illuminated by the glow of two bedside lamps and sensual, low-wattage bulbs. His knees were bent with long legs spread apart. It gave a pretty obscene view of the fingers he had working in and out of his ass. Russ did not need more beer to get in the mood.

“Jesus,” he cursed again. He turned around as soon as he entered and stared back into the empty apartment. “You can do this, Russ,” he coached himself. “No big deal. You know— _You know_ — that there is nothing special about this bastard but his good looks.” Looks were a considerable factor in sex. “You got this. You just go in there and have... unprotected sex with some sort of good-looking... Adonis. Because you know what? He’s still a showboating bastard.”

“Russ?” Milt queried in a soft tone. He was confused by Russ’s hesitance to enter and inability to even look at him.

“Coming,” Russ said over his shoulder. He took a very deep breath in and kicked off his shoes. When he approached the bed, he tried to act like Milt naked and fingering himself was no big deal. “Failed my mission,” he said.

“That’s okay, Russ,” Milt replied. “I’m sure you did your best.” What a considerate, understanding asshole.

“King-sized bed,” Russ remarked, pointing at the innocent mattress beneath Milt instead of what was on it, “what a surprise.” Everything Milt had was the biggest and best option possible.

“Came with the apartment,” he excused. “Hey, Russ?”

“Yeah, Milt?”

“I don’t...” He drifted off in distraction and moaned. “I don’t want to be a bother, but...”

“Yeah- Yeah,” Russ stammered. “Yeah, right. Of course.”

“I’m not impatient,” Milt claimed, and what might have been true any other time was a lie now.

In perhaps the most awkward dressing down since his last health physical, Russ shook out of his jacket and looked around for a place to put it.

“Chair behind you,” Milt grunted out.

“Ah, thanks.” Russ draped his jacket over the chair and pulled off his shirt. He came in what he had on at home, which meant the sweatpants he wore were especially easy to kick off. Russ sat on the edge of the bed in only his boxers and pulled off his socks. “So condoms,” he asked, “use ‘em or why bother?”

“Using the ones we have will... marginally decrease the chance,” Milt said.

“Yeah,” Russ mocked, “instead of 90%, maybe now it’ll be 89.”

“I’m trying to be positive, Russ.”

“Do something else with your positivity,” Russ told him. “Unless you think positivity alone can stop a baby.” He said the word they had purposefully avoided. He opened the door for the conversation.

“I don’t think I’m ready to have a baby,” Milt admitted.

“Then don’t have one,” Russ groaned. He turned around on the bed and tried to focus on Milt’s clammy face instead of the rest of him. “We’re in the damn 21st century. When people in the 21st century _really_  don’t want to have a baby, guess what? They don’t have a baby. End of story.”

“What if I should have a baby?” Milt reconsidered, turning on a dime and pondering it to himself. He was losing his mind to his body. One of him knew what he wanted and it was trying to convince the other. “I am in my forties now... and not getting any younger.”

“Then you marry a woman,” Russ said, explaining it in simple terms. “You marry a woman, you be the dad, and boom, you’ve got another twenty years maybe before it starts getting creepy.” He sat further back on the large bed. “But most importantly,” he emphasized, “it means that _you and I_  are not having a baby, not together.”

“Okay, Russ.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, Russ.”

“Good man.” Russ leaned back and patted his thigh. It made a naked smack against bare skin. “Now get your hand out of your ass. What’s the matter with you? Learn some manners and some patience, man.”

Milt laughed. He kept his fingers moving a few seconds more then pulled his hand free. It dropped onto the bed beside him. “You’re not...” He took deep, calming breaths. “You’re not _too_  patient, are you, Russ?”

“No, Milt,” he said, “I’m not too patient.” Milt wanted to know if he teased, drew it all out. There was a time and place for that. A heat was not it. That was cruel for an omega and Russ knew better. “Besides,” he tried to look Milt up and down with a little more nonchalance, normalizing the sight, “who could take their time with you?”

“I think I’ve noticed you staring at me before,” Milt said.

“Like hell you have,” Russ objected. “I’m not into beta guys, which... I obviously thought you were until now.”

“But you like, uh, you like omega guys?” Milt questioned.

“I like people,” Russ said, compromising on his answer, avoiding whom exactly he was attracted to and how deep each attraction ran. Milt was not an option now simply because he was an omega. He was not an option.

“You hate people,” Milt said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Russ replied. He grinned. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. And you know what?” He turned around to fully face Milt. He put his knees into the bed instead of hanging off the side. “I hate you... just as much today as I did yesterday.” In Russ’s mind, that was equality.

“Hate me a little closer?” Milt asked. He put his hand out and clenched his fingers shut as if he could reel Russ in.

“Just... one more time.” Russ would feel better with absolute consent, no matter how muddied Milt’s hormones made his thoughts. “You’re _sure_  this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Milt said. “Yes, Russ. Yes, please. Please.” It was what he wanted. It was undeniably what he wanted. So why did Russ feel like a dog for helping him out? Why did he feel like he was taking advantage? “I want this,” Milt assured him. “I want you, Russ, need you. Please... don’t leave.”

“You said you noticed me looking,” Russ pressed. “I wasn’t. Not like you thought I was. Just observations, man. You’re attractive, sure. I got eyes. I noticed that. Doesn’t mean I was attracted.”

“Russ,” he begged. His hand drifted from the bed and over his chest, down his abdomen. Russ swatted it away before he could go back to fingering himself. Instead, Milt pressed his body into the bed, writhing in the sheets to rub as much as he could against his skin.

“You didn’t notice shit,” Russ argued. There was nothing for Milt to pick up on because there was nothing Russ put out there. “Tell the truth for once in your damn life. You wanted me to be looking, didn’t you? You wanted me to be interested. Is that it?” He did not answer. “Is that it, Milt? You _imagined_  I was interested because you wanted it to be true?”

“Yes, Russ.” He nodded his head. It was shaky and rubbed his messy hair all over the pillow. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“Because I’m an alpha?” It was a cheap shortcut to attraction. Russ hated it.

“Because you’re smart,” Milt contradicted. “You’re honorable, a good man who... cares about his people.” He was frustrated, and Russ could not trust that Milt was not saying everything he thought Russ wanted to hear. He was manipulative like that. “I guess I thought... I hoped... maybe you saw something you liked in me.” It sounded sad and pathetic in a time when Milt needed no help being a sympathetic figure. Russ pitied him, sure, but he did not forget who was on the other end of those words and beneath that sheen of sweat. Milt was a liar, but he was a liar that needed help.

“All right,” Russ commenced, “let’s do this.” He scooted closer and could almost feel the heat coming off Milt’s body. “Roll over, would you?” he asked. “That damn face of yours is... it’s distracting.” He was too pretty. Milt complied with the demand, and Russ soon learned there was no safe place to look at the man. His ass was toned and firm. It was wet. “Damn it,” Russ muttered. Milt had no bad angles. It was frustrating. “How prepped are you?” he questioned. He had avoided looking close enough to see just how many fingers Milt had inside himself. “You good to go, or what?”

“How big are you?” Milt countered. He rocked on his knees, pushing his ass back towards Russ.

“Big enough.” Some things Russ did not brag about. Men who went on and on about their size were exaggerating ten times out of ten. Russ found modesty to be much more indicative of the truth. “Just calm down,” he encouraged, and he got a grip on either side of Milt’s hips when he kept rocking. “Calm down or you’ll wear yourself out at the starting line.”

“Marathon, not a race,” Milt murmured into his pillow.

“That’s right,” Russ agreed. “That’s right. And it’s my marathon now.” He took control. “So we’re gonna go at my pace so you don’t pass out on me. You got that?”

“Yeah, Russ. Sure thing.” Milt nodded his head. It bobbed over the strong muscle of neck and shoulders. All of him was the peak of fitness and appeal. A long sloping back gave way to that pert ass and was supported by tall legs that bent at the knee and made a spectacle of him. And beneath, Milt had that broad chest and stomach that straddled the line between lean and muscular. Yes, he was the ideal, and for the night, that body belonged to Russ.

He moved a hand from Milt’s hip onto his ass. Stretched as it was in his position, the muscle was pulled taut. It was like a rock under Russ’s fingers, a rock covered by so soft skin. Of course he was perfect. Of course the sight and the feel of his ass were so alluring. Russ was positively ensnared. He moved further in across that fevered skin and gave plenty of warning before sticking a finger inside. He actually put his finger in his partner’s ass. Milt moaned. It was hot. It was hot in Russ’s ear and all around his finger. “God,” he groaned, “ass like yours oughta be fucked well _and_  often.” What was he saying? Were the smell and the sight and the feel of Milt affecting him as well? He was hard, and that was certainly telling.

“Please,” Milt begged. It was what he wanted.

The complete irony of the situation was not lost on Russ. An actually noticeable percentage of Battle Creek— men and women— wanted to be right where he was: in bed with Milt Chamberlain. Russ did not care and never gave a thought to it, and yet he was the lucky winner. It was ridiculous.

He put in a second finger and it went. He tried a third and it was tolerated well. Russ felt good enough about it. Milt was not embarrassingly desperate yet, but that was no reason to make him wait. Russ pulled out his fingers and the man whined at his loss.

“Shut it,” Russ said. They could not move to the next round with his fingers in the way. “Condom?” Milt tossed him the box with their miniscule supply. Russ took off his underwear and put on a condom with the excited, fumbling hands of a teenager. Perhaps he was affected. In that moment, Russ doubted he could leave if he tried. He needed it, too.

He put the covered head of his cock up against Milt’s wet and wanting hole. He moved it up and down with his hand— not teasing, as Milt might perceive it, but preparing him, readying him, giving them each one last chance to back out. It did not come from either end. With one fateful push forward, he was having sex with his partner.

“Oh, god,” Russ exhaled. He was tight and so very, very hot. Not to be a spectator to his own debauchery, Milt squeezed around Russ with all the strength of some perverse exercise he did at his desk chair when no one was around. “Jesus, Milt.”

“Keep going, Russ,” he implored. He was not satisfied, not by a long shot.

Russ continued moving forward, going and going, feeding his cock to Milt until he bottomed out, until his dormant knot was up against that pert ass. “God, you feel so good,” Russ flattered. He did, all hot and tight with twitching muscles that squeezed around him in masterful control. Milt pushed back against Russ, striking up an undulating rhythm which, for him, could not come fast enough. “Impatient bastard,” Russ muttered, but he had to confess he was intrigued by this side of him. Milt did not care enough to hide behind pretense. He was the man Russ suspected he was, the man no one else would see. Russ rewarded that honesty. “Let’s give you what you need, huh?”

“I’d really... appreciate that, Russ,” he uttered. Pleasure with Milt’s character never could last long before he ruined it. Russ chose to see the itching omega who was more eager to be pleased than he was to satisfy everyone else’s needs.

Russ pulled back slowly and pushed in slowly, forcing Milt to accept a little finesse to the act. “I’m gonna wear you out,” he threatened.

“Yes,” Milt groaned. He wanted that. “Yes, Russ. Mm, do it.” His fingers wrapped up in the sheets and tangled in his grip. “God, you feel so good,” he rambled. “So big, so good. You are just what I needed. Ah... Ah... Just what I need, Russ.”

Russ picked up his pace. He let his hands drift from Milt’s hips and onto the rest of his overly sensitive skin. His attentions were well received. Russ massaged Milt’s back and rubbed his sides. He raked his nails down a taut stomach and finally touched right where Milt wanted him.

“Oh!” Russ liked bringing the man to make that noise. Milt’s body quivered, and he dropped from his hands down to his elbows. His breath shuddered. “If you could...” Damn his manners. “If you could keep doing that, please, Ru... Russ. Please.” Damn him.

Russ took his hand off Milt’s cock. He leaned over his back and murmured in his ear, “Why?” The whole torturous endeavor was necessary because Milt needed a knot before he got relief. Beating off would do nothing but chafe. “I mean, it’s not like you can finish before the end. You know that, right?”

Milt nodded with a quick, jerking motion, rubbing his forehead all over his pillow. “I know that. I know—” Russ gave a hard thrust forward and Milt yelped— actually yelped. “Right there, damn it.” Russ got him again, same place, same pressure. He was content to finally see a little fire from his partner. “Oh, you beautiful bastard,” Milt grunted. He loved it, and Russ enjoyed seeing him desperate. He liked seeing Milt so distracted he forgot to keep up all the lies and the pretenses. “Don’t you stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Russ said. Why would he? He was meeting Milt, the real Milt, for the first time. It would be a shame to spoil the introduction. “Gonna ruin that perfect ass of yours. Make you think of me every time you sit down.” He went in deep and Milt moaned. “Make you remember me every time some other guy sees you like this.” Russ had no idea what he was saying, but it felt like a stupendous way to vent his many frustrations against the man.

Apparently, Milt liked the dirty talk. “Yes, Russ,” he agreed. “Just you. You’re what I need, damn it.” No one else mattered. No one else existed. Milt could not see past the edge of the mattress Russ pushed him into. “Hurry it up.”

“So impatient,” Russ laughed. He knew Milt was desperate, maybe even hurting, but he took no less pleasure out of tearing down those walls of deception. Milt was a great actor on his average day but shit when he was distracted. “God, I love you like this.” Russ slowed down to see what would happen. It was noticed immediately.

“Shut up and knot me already,” Milt growled. His hands gripped the pillow beneath his head. He clawed at it. “You weren’t supposed to tease, you bastard. You weren’t supposed to tease.”

Russ grinned. “Nice to meet you, Milt.” There he was: an impatient, frustrated son of a bitch who probably had some anger issues lurking beneath the surface. He was no better than the rest of them. He was no better than Russ. “Let’s get you what you need.”

“Thank you,” Milt said, but it sounded more sarcastic than sincere.

Russ picked up the pace again, slapping his hips up against Milt’s ass, watching his knot become full. It knew just what it wanted, what he— what they— wanted.

When he felt he was ready, Russ slowed down again and shushed Milt when he complained. Russ pulled out. He stuck a finger into Milt’s slack, wet hole and pushed his cock back in beside it. Milt whined just a little at the stretch but did not complain. “Gonna get you ready for it,” Russ said, and Milt understood. A second finger came a minute later, two of them in there beside his cock, rubbing against the latex of the condom. Milt made another noise of protest but spoke no words to stop it. He was desperate. “Three,” Russ asked him, “or ‘Ride, Sally, ride’?”

“Just go,” Milt urged. “Just do it. End it, Russell.” He sounded tired. His body was hot beneath Russ’s hands. His face was red and sweaty.

“Yeah, Milt,” Russ said in a softer, more sympathetic tone. “Sure thing.” He took out his fingers, and Milt did not complain. He waited. Russ kept his hands on Milt’s hips but pulled his ass apart with his thumbs, watching the angle of penetration and witnessing Milt’s slick gleam all around that strained hole and soak Russ’s cock. He pushed forward until his knot was right up against Milt’s ass. “You say stop, we stop,” he said. “Your pace now, Milt.” He gave control back to the man. “You tell me when.”

“When.” He was ready, no hesitation.

Russ moved forward. He watched the rim of Milt’s ass expand around his knot. The first push went without incident.

“God!” Milt fell down onto his pillow and rubbed his face in it. His body went rigid.

Russ petted his hips with a smooth caress. “Shh, shh, shh,” he whispered to calm the man. “Almost there. Almost done. You’re doin’ good, Milt. You’re doin’ good. Don’t quit on me now.”

“Mm,” Milt grunted. “It’s just... It’s just been so... long since I’ve done this.”

Russ tried to deny jealousy. He tried to tell himself it was hardly surprising Milt had slept with some other guy, some other alpha. He was not jealous, and Milt did not belong to him.

“You got two options,” Russ said. They could quit or they could continue. “Three, if I do this.” He put his hand on Milt’s hard, leaking cock and pulled down. His entire body twitched.

“Shit.” Milt was sensitive and out of his head enough to speak obscenities. “Damn it, Russ, go. G... Go. Do it. Ah... Ah... Yes!”

Russ pushed inside all the way. He kept pumping Milt’s cock until he came. Then Russ let himself go, orgasming and ejaculating into the condom. Milt collapsed and Russ fell right on top of him. He quickly pulled them over onto their sides. They rested and caught their breath.

“Oh, god,” Milt panted. “Oh, god, that was good. That was what I needed. That was just what I needed. That was...” He did not finish the mindless statement, but Russ got the feeling it could stand alone. “Oh, thank you.” Milt was himself again, which meant he was back to acting like a gracious man. Russ could tolerate that in the afterglow.

“No,” he dismissed. No thanks were necessary. Russ could count on one sticky hand the number or times someone let him knot. He took in a deep breath. “No, it was good.” He was surprised. “You, uh, you’re right. It was... yeah.”

Milt turned his head around to look at Russ over his shoulder. It was all so natural until that moment. He stopped and stared.

“What?” Russ asked. “I got something on my face?” He ran a hand over his face, wiping at the skin.

“No.” Milt shook his head and rolled back over. “It’s nothing. I just went to... kiss... you, but then I realized...”

“Oh.” Russ had never made a home run without touching first base.

“Is that weird?” Milt asked. It was new for him as well. That was why he almost did it without thinking: impulse, habit. “Is it weird we didn’t kiss?”

“The whole situation’s weird,” Russ pardoned. “Kissing, it’s romantic. Doesn’t mean the sex has to be.” It was not. As much as Russ wished he could say it was mechanical and impersonal, he knew that would be a lie. But it was still the truth to say it was not romantic. “Besides, the sex isn’t even sex. It- It’s a medical condition.”

Milt laughed at how un-sexy that description was. His body shook in Russ’s arms. “Hell of a medical condition,” he chuckled.

“Gives you a better story than asthma ever could,” Russ joked. The humor caught on and he laughed as well. Apparently, the absurdity of the situation was hilarious.

They calmed down after a moment. Milt’s jumping, chuckling stomach lay still beneath Russ’s hand. He rubbed the soft skin above hard muscle. It became a sensual moment, tender.

“We could,” Milt quietly suggested. He did not elaborate because he did not have to.

“Kissing because it’s weird not to is not a good enough reason,” Russ said.

“You’re right,” Milt agreed. He was. “But there _are_  other reasons.”

“Like what exactly?”

Milt sighed. He did not want to say what he said. “Like I want to kiss you, Russ.” And he could not take it back either.

Russ’s reply was hardly profound or witty. “Why?” That was really all he had.

Milt shrugged. Not even he knew why. “Medical condition.” He got a free pass until his heat was over. Everything Milt said or did was inadmissible. “And because we could.” It would never leave the room. Like everything going on that night, it would stay between them.

Milt had a little hair on his chest. Russ ran his fingers over it, practically petting the man. He kissed the back of Milt’s shoulder. He kissed it again and then on the rounded top. He kissed Milt’s neck, and then Milt twisted around to meet his lips. They kissed. It was not the stuff of romance novels— no fireworks or instantaneous love— but it was good. Milt was talented at most everything, so of course it could never be bad. It was believably good, no more, no less, just enough to make it real. Maybe that made it perfect.

The angle was bad to begin with and Russ could barely keep his nose from pressing into the man’s. They managed to twist just right and get close enough for tongues. It was a little messy, a little sloppy, but Russ did not hate that either.

After a few minutes, he gradually ended it. “Think I’m ready to pull out,” he warned. He kissed the corner of Milt’s lip. “Roll over, all right?” Milt turned onto his stomach and spread open his legs. Russ eased himself out. “God, what a mess,” he sighed. Milt was gaping and wet but still mostly clean from their use of a condom. Russ took the thing off and tied it up. He fell back into bed. “Give me a minute,” he asked. “Give me a minute and we’ll go again.”

“Ye... ah,” Milt agreed.

His stilted answer made Russ look over. “Goddamn it.” He was already fingering himself. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” Milt agreed with a smirk. “Man, you did a number on me.”

“You’ll live,” Russ said. He would recover well, no harm done. “Water break,” he decided, making himself useful until he could be useful again. He got them both a bottle of water from the fridge and made Milt stop playing with his ass long enough to drink it. “You okay?”

Milt swallowed a big gulp. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m just...” He flicked his fingers at his head in a way that communicated nothing. “One track mind right now.”

“Yeah, right, right.” Russ understood.

“Thinking about the next time already,” he said. Russ could see he was hard for it. “Just that, nothing else.” Milt was disappointed in himself.

“It’s not your fault,” Russ excused. “I’m thinking about it, too.” He was but with much less of that all-consuming obsession.

“Thinking about... the next time,” Milt continued, “and then the next time. I’m thinking about them so I can get them out of the way.” Russ knew what he implied. Milt rubbed his stomach. “I want a baby.”

“No,” Russ contradicted, “you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Milt agreed. He tried to think logically. “I just think I do. But I’m thinking it so damn hard, Russ.” He could not stop. He was in heat, and pregnancy was the entire point of heat.

“Because this is how it works,” Russ told him, “but you’re smarter than that, Milt.”

Milt snickered and it lacked humor. “Smart or stupid, it’s happening, Russ.” It was, and there was no denying that. He twisted the cap onto his water bottle and put it on the nightstand. “So fuck me twice and get through the condoms already.” He rolled onto his hands and knees.

Despite taking just as long, Russ was certain those two rounds flew by.

“I don’t suppose that did it?” he panted, asking it hopefully when he pulled out of the man for the third time that night.

Milt shook his head. “Still in heat.”

Russ disposed of the last condom. “Then drink some water and buckle up.”

Milt obeyed. He finished off the second bottle Russ retrieved for him. The plastic made a hollow clatter when it hit the floor. Milt watched it roll away. “Can we...” He was embarrassed, which was, in itself, a treat.

“Can we what?”

Milt turned onto his back. He pushed his legs apart, inviting Russ between them. “Like this?” he asked.

“What, facing?” It was not what Russ wanted. He had to be practical. He still had to look the man in the eye and work with him when all was said and done.

“Please, Russ.” It sounded sincere, not placating. It was what Milt really wanted, perhaps needed. “I know we’re not gonna let it stick... but I would like to look at you while we...” They were going to do it, make a baby— spark the act, anyway. It almost felt rude, and incredibly impersonal, to impregnate a person from behind.

“Okay.” Russ could not believe he gave in. “All right, Milt. We’ll do it your way.”

Milt smiled that hundred-watt smile. “Thank you, Russ.”

“Do _not_  thank me,” he insisted. “Probably gonna be awkward as hell when we’re through.”

It was not, most likely because the universe took great pleasure in proving Russ wrong and Milt right.

“God, you’re so hot,” he muttered against the skin of Milt’s neck. He kissed it all the way from collarbone to jaw. “I mean that literally.” Milt’s skin was a degree or two above average, and his insides were pure heat, so good against Russ’s bare cock. Denying it to himself those first three times felt stupid as he now conveniently forgot all consequence.

“I feel you,” Milt murmured. He sounded content. “I feel you inside.”

Russ tilted his head forward until it rested on Milt’s shoulder. “Yeah.” It was happening. “Yeah.” When he pulled out, Milt asked how he looked, as if it were a normal question. “A mess,” Russ said. It was the most accurate assessment. Cum ran from his insides, down onto a towel Russ grabbed from the bathroom. It was better than ruining that big fancy mattress. “You look like somebody who just got screwed all the way to one outcome.”

Milt laid on his back with his hands resting on his chest. He stared at the ceiling without really seeing it. “Pregnant.”

“It’s not so bad,” Russ promised. “What did I say? I said we’d take care of this. I know you’re, like, the most fertile you’ve ever been in your life maybe, but they make the morning after pill for you guys just like they do for women.” Those were not the words of encouragement Milt wanted.

“Shut up, Russell.”

It was after three o’ clock in the morning, and Russ really wanted to lie down and crash. An all-nighter of sex was not how he planned his day when he stayed up too late the night before. He was working on too little sleep but would not complain. However, there was no way in hell he was going to work in a few hours.

“I’m thirsty,” Milt said.

Russ got them another water.

They went again and again, starting over every half-hour or so. The more tired they became, the more time they managed to slip between rounds. Russ actually got Milt to take a power nap at one point. He was about to fall asleep as well when he felt Milt climb on top of him. It was a decent reprieve and a hell of a sight to let the man ride him and do all the work. Milt was more exhausted than him, though, and Russ had to take back over after that.

His knot was buried in Milt— cock ejaculating— when he found his best opportunity to call in at work. He was definitely not going in today, and he did not want the squad looking for him like a missing person. He did not want them finding him.

“Hey,” he said into the phone. His voice was hoarse from yelling and exertion.

“Russ?” Guziewicz questioned. “You don’t sound so good. What the hell are you doing calling me at six in the morning?”

“Yeah, I don’t feel so good,” he said. “I think Milt poisoned me.” Milt tried to object beneath him but knew he could not say anything, only make disagreeable little faces. “Made us eat lunch at this sushi place yesterday,” Russ elaborated, dialing back the melodrama. “I hate sushi.”

“You all right?” she asked. “That stuff can get kind of serious if it turns. Maybe you should go to the E.R.”

“All I need,” Russ said, “is the sweet, sweet knowledge that somewhere out there Milt Chamberlain is probably feeling just as bad. I don’t have to worry about him stealing my cases. He’ll be hugging the john like me all day.” Russ made an excuse for them both. It was a story that evaded suspicion towards them taking a sick day together. Milt was impressed.

“All right,” Guz permitted. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Russ was about to hang up before she added, “I assume it’ll be tomorrow. Really depends how long you take to wrap up what you’re actually doing.”

Her uncanny perception caused Milt to fret, but Russ waved away the idea that there was anything to worry about. If Guz cared enough to look into his every lie and indiscretion, he would have been fired years ago. “Yeah, it should be taken care of by then,” he said.

“Russ?”

“Yes?”

“Leave Agent Chamberlain out of it.”

“It’s not _illegal_ ,” Russ objected. Somehow, he found the gall to be offended.

“All right,” Guz relented, and either she believed him or she waited for the opposite to be proven. “Have fun playing hooky.”

“How can I?” he scoffed. “I’ll be with Milt.” He hung up.

“‘I’ll be with Milt’?” the man exclaimed. “That’s your idea of a cover story?”

“Turns out I didn’t even have to lie.”

They finished up and Milt did not move when Russ collapsed next to him. He did not have much— if any— energy left. “One more time, Russ,” he hoped. “Maybe one more time.”

“Thank God,” Russ sighed in relief. That was all he had in him.

They fucked one last time, and it was a half-assed effort. They grunted off and on but did not bother with dirty talk or expletives. Russ almost fell asleep still inside Milt. He managed to keep awake just long enough to clean them up a little.

By the time Milt finally passed out and Russ joined him, the sun was well up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was halfway done writing before I thought how good the opposite might be. Omega Russ positively frustrated to ask alpha Milt for help, concede another field to him. He’d hate it. I’d love it.
> 
> I know Milt moved into an actual apartment at some point in the series, but I felt like describing the safehouse instead. And maybe eventually he’ll move in with Russ, yes?
> 
> Got a morning after chapter coming.
> 
> Don’t know how active the Battle Creek fandom is, but I love reviews. ♥


	2. The Talk

Russ woke first. He knew that would not ordinarily be the case, but Milt was exhausted, thoroughly worn out. Russ tried not to feel smug about that. There were bigger emotions to consider in its place: regret; fear of fallout; the crushing weight of every alternative they should have embraced, plans that seemed much more obvious now that his mind was sober.

Milt’s alarm clock read 11:14. Three hours’ sleep was not enough, but he felt wide awake and energized. Russ let Milt doze. He let the tired omega rest up against his side and breathe peacefully. Of course the guy did not snore. Russ’s fingertips trailed over a hard shoulder and down a strong bicep. God, Milt was attractive. And Russ made a bad mistake with him.

When Milt stirred an hour later, Russ kept quiet about the overwhelming list of negatives he was drafting in his head. Milt did not need to feel guilty for something that was not his fault. Russ had plenty he wanted to berate the man with, but it was all work related. Gender disadvantages were off limits. Russ was not the sort of man to make— or even let— Milt feel bad over asking for help.

Those pretty brown eyes opened and Russ brushed a hand over Milt’s cheek and into his hair. There was a transition period he needed to indulge, then he could go back to treating Milt like normal.

“Hey,” he greeted in a soft tone.

“Hey,” Milt mumbled.

“How you feelin’?”

Milt did not answer for a moment. He took inventory. “Uh, sore,” he said, voicing that most noticeable attribute. “Kind of tired.”

Russ kissed him. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nah.” Milt shook his head. “I’m awake.” Like Russ, once his mind started remembering and thinking, it moved too swiftly to slow back down. He tried to shift away and leave the bed— or at least move to its other side.

“No, no, no.” Russ stopped him. “Don’t get bashful on me now, Milt.” He grabbed the man and kept him close. Russ was not possessive or longing for intimacy, but he did not want Milt to feel ashamed. “I’m not gonna judge.” Russ would deride the man’s technology, his car, even his haircut, but not this.

“I know, Russ.” Milt stayed where he was. “So we really...”

“We really,” he confirmed.

“Wow.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll have to report this to my commanding officer, of course,” Milt said.

Russ sat up in bed and stared at him. “No, you don’t,” he argued. “No, you don’t. See, ‘cause if you tell your boss, word might trickle down to my boss, and then I’m getting called into Guz’s office and questioned on why I didn’t report this _flagrant_  inter-office fraternization. Then our entire stupid partnership gets compromised. You and I both know we can carry on like this never happened, but the higher-ups...” He sighed. “I don’t want... anyone outside this room knowing, you got that? This is not the sort of personal information I go spreading around.”

Milt raised up and the dark cotton sheet rolled down his chest and into his lap. “You don’t kiss and tell, Russ?”

“No,” he said, “and especially not with you.”

“You’re embarrassed,” Milt observed.

“Not because of what we did.”

“Just because of whom you did it with,” he guessed. “You’re ashamed that you slept with me.”

“It was a biological obligation that I help you,” Russ stated. “Same way I’d help a woman carrying something heavy or give up my seat to a pregnant person. It’s just what people do. It’s a pain in the ass, but it’s what you do.”

“But you are ashamed,” Milt repeated, refusing to let Russ dance around the question.

“Yes,” he confirmed. There was the answer Milt expected, dragged out of his mouth. “Aren’t you?”

“I think,” Milt contemplated, “it’s like you said: a biological obligation. It’s what we do.”

Russ exhaled a laugh and shook his head. “You got more to be ashamed of than me, I guess,” he said. “Unless people wanna paint me as the dog that took advantage of you.”

“We’ll keep it a secret,” Milt allowed, breaking a bureaucratic rule for Russ’s sake. He rarely broke rules, so it really was a treat. “Letting people think the worst of you isn’t the way I want to repay you for your help.”

“Why me?” Russ asked— had to ask. “Why pick me? Why call me?” There were probably a dozen guys on Milt’s phone more noble than Russ, guys who were not his co-worker, guys with no red tape.

“I think you’re a good man,” Milt reiterated.

“Yeah,” Russ uttered. “Yeah, I know that’s what you said over the phone.” He scoffed. “I also know it’s a load of bull. Everyone loves you, and you trust all of them— just all of them. But instead, you pick the one guy who doesn’t like you. The one you don’t trust, the one who doesn’t trust you, you pick _that guy_. Why?”

“You want the truth?” Milt asked.

“Doubt I’ll get it, but sure, Milt,” he said, “hit me up.”

“I could tell,” he answered without eye contact, “that you... wanted to be better than me at something. I thought with this that you might—“

Russ hit him, an open palm against the cheek. “Screw you, man,” he spat. “Screw you thinkin’ I’m that kind of guy. You can go to hell.” Russ tried to get out of bed and Milt grabbed his arm.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “You’re right, Russ. You’re not the sort of man to look at this as your victory or my loss. I’m sorry. I was wrong.” Russ let him keep talking. He enjoyed words like that. “But I also knew anyone else would have trouble. I never asked for it, but they put me on a pedestal. You’re the only one always looking to knock me off. I knew you’d be able to do it.”

“Dominate you?” The wording sat ill with him.

“Treat me like a person,” Milt clarified, “like you would anyone else. You didn’t hold back, and that was all I wanted.”

“So it was selfish,” Russ concluded. Milt did not want him because he was a good man or even because he liked him. He chose Russ because he was the only one who saw him as anything less than a god on Earth. “Now that I believe.”

Milt let go of Russ’s arm, content he would not leave bed angry. He reached for a bottle of water left half-drank from that morning and poured it into his parched mouth.

“Coffee?” Russ asked.

Milt swallowed and set his bottle aside. “Yeah,” he said, “won’t take a minute.” He moved to get out of bed, and Russ pushed a hand against his shoulder, stopping him.

“I can make coffee, Milt,” he said. “I’m asking if you want some, not telling you to do it.” Russ could drink an entire pot by himself, but he would share.

“You don’t have to provide for me,” Milt insisted. “I’m feeling much better now.”

“It’s putting on coffee,” Russ said, “your coffee in your machine in your apartment. I’m not _providing_  anything but the chance for you to sit on your ass a little longer. You’re beat and I’m not gonna make you wait on me because I’m a guest.” He expected an argument.

“Okay, Russ.” Maybe Milt was more wiped out than he pretended. Maybe he did want to be provided for.

Milt’s coffee pot belonged on a damn space station. No one needed that many buttons and options to brew some simple coffee. Russ figured it out. He used the bathroom while he waited, splashed water on his face, then he poured them each a cup. He had watched Milt prepare his coffee at work enough times to know how the man took it.

They sat in bed and drank the coffee they very much needed. Russ felt like he could open his eyes just a little wider. After the first few gulps, he sipped on it instead and watched Milt drink his on the other side of the bed. “Soon as you feel like getting out again,” he said, “you go and buy that pill thing people take.” With any luck, that would stop a pregnancy before it started. “Few weeks, you take the test. If it’s positive...” Russ found better solace in drifting off instead of completing that sentence.

“I know what it means,” Milt replied. He was morose and could not look Russ in the eye. He stared at his coffee.

“Hey, hey.” Russ snapped his fingers to get Milt’s attention. “This is the kind of life-altering, earth-shattering decision people make together, all right? Together. And I don’t consent.” Milt nodded his head. “All right?”

“Yes,” he audibly answered.

“I don’t want a kid.”

Milt, frustrating as always, could not leave it alone. He challenged Russ’s certainty, convinced personal preference was not an applicable answer. “You’re afraid,” he said, assumed. “You don’t think you’d be a good father.”

“Shut the hell up,” Russ threatened, and he said it quietly enough to make clear just how little he wanted to dissect the topic.

“You never knew your father,” Milt persisted. “You’re scared you wouldn’t know how to be one yourself.”

It was less complex than Milt wanted to make it. “You think I wanna be tied to your perfect, pretty-boy ass the rest of my life?” Russ scoffed. “You think I wanna change diapers and pay child support? You think I want damn every other weekend visits with a kid I’m telling you right now _I don’t want_?”

“You’re imagining a worst case scenario,” Milt said. Russ was a realist, but everyone always saw him as a pessimist.

“No, I’m telling it like it is,” he argued. “I don’t like you, Milt.” It was a stance Russ maintained despite everything they did together. “And kids aren’t stupid. He/she/it would pick up on that. No one deserves to know they were a mistake and the only reason they’re here is because their ‘daddy’ was late taking a pill.” Russ swallowed the rest of his coffee and set the mug aside. “It is so... damn easy to screw a person up for life. We see the end result every day at work. And here we’d be with a head start.”

“You think we’d raise a criminal?” Milt questioned. The concept was so farfetched to him.

“I think anything is possible,” Russ said. His mother, the criminal, raised a cop. The opposite was just as likely. “I think raising a kid is a bigger job than you wanna act like right now. Because all you got on the brain is pregnancy and a baby. That’s the easy part, Milt. Avoid drinking and smoking, feed the thing, change the thing, you’re halfway there. But you’re a damn fool if you think it’s smooth sailing after that.” Russ had seen so many children in horrible situations throughout his career, children just trying to persevere and make the best out of what life gave. They never asked for what they got. “It shouldn’t be this easy to have a kid by accident,” Russ said. “But then I’m sure your parents planned you and loved you— loved each other. They spent nine damn months coming up with the name ‘Milton.’ So I don’t actually expect you to understand anything I’m trying to say.”

“So,” Milt concluded, refusing to actually listen when Russ spoke, “you are afraid.”

Russ had so many tirades and frustrations to yell at the thick-headed agent, he could barely pick. “Yes,” was not one of them. “Yes,” was what Russ said. “I never had a dad,” he said. “Mom was awful. Could never even tell if she loved me or not. Then I turned out awful. I just,” he sighed, “I don’t wanna screw somebody else up, all right?” Milt was taken aback by his honesty, however forcefully it was dragged out of him. “There,” he huffed. “There’s your goddamned truth. I hope you choke on it, solve all my problems.”

Milt gave him sympathetic puppy eyes, like they were Russ’s reward for displaying a little genuine emotion. It felt more like a punishment to watch that naked pity. Milt drank down his coffee. He put the empty cup on his bedside table and he laid down. “I’m tired, Russ.” It was a general statement and could have meant anything. Maybe Russ did imagine worst case scenarios because he thought Milt was asking him to leave. He tried to get out of bed, but Milt stopped him with a simple request. “Lay down with me?” He turned over in the sheets and presented his bare back to Russ. He was so handsome.

Russ hesitated and hated himself every second as he laid down behind Milt and put an arm around him, over his side and up against his chest. Apparently, they were still in a place where such actions were wanted. Russ kissed the back of Milt’s neck. “We can’t be partners anymore if this gets out,” he muttered. “Damn... conflict of interest.”

“I know.”

“If you get pregnant, this gets out.”

“You don’t even want to be my partner, Russ,” Milt reminded him.

“I don’t want scum on my streets,” Russ said. Reluctantly, he admitted, “We work... well together.”

“We could,” Milt suggested, “work well together... as parents.”

“I thought you followed evidence,” Russ said. Milt hated to speculate. “You know it’s all pointing to the contrary, right?”

“Sometimes,” Milt told him, “when it’s a personal matter, when all I have is my instinct— my gut— sometimes I trust that.” It was what he did when he first requested Russ, and he had not been let down yet.

“You’re gambling a lot on your gut,” Russ said. “Your life, my life, some kid’s life. They could all be... ruined.”

“They could be made better.” Milt was in such a vulnerable place post-heat. His body and mind told him something was missing, something important. “I’m getting older, Russ,” he said. “It’s never really bothered me before, seeing a little gray in the mirror.” Russ saw it now, growing in at his temples, a taunting contrast to the rest of his black hair. “With age comes wisdom, which is its own reward.” Of course Milt had to be stupidly wise in treasuring that. “But it also means there’s a time clock on my youth. Now, I can still run and jump and wrestle a perpetrator without feeling it in my joints or anything.” Russ wished he could say the same. “But my reproductive system, the... ability to carry a child, I lose that window a little more every day.”

Being an alpha, Russ never had to face such concerns. He never thought about them. “That’s not my responsibility,” he said. Milt’s happiness, satisfying his ticking biological clock, it was not Russ’s job. He had done enough for the man.

“I know.” Russ felt like he was glimpsing the real Milt again. He spoke in his typical way of understanding, but underneath was a whiny little spoiled brat who wanted what he wanted. “And hey,” Milt said, “I went into heat, didn’t I? Clearly I still have some time left.” He was not over the hill and infertile yet.

“Yeah,” Russ agreed. “You still got time.” He had a few more years of it at least. “You want it that bad, start dating. Find you a guy you _like_. Or go to a damn sperm bank. That’s what they’re there for, right?”

Milt pushed back, cozying up against Russ, saying without words that he wanted his child.

“You’ll, uh...” Russ cleared his throat. “You know, you’ll wake up tomorrow and remember that this is _not_  what you want.” Russ was not what he wanted. “You just got baby on the brain.” It was not Milt’s fault. Heat invaded him, body and mind. This was the aftereffect.

Milt turned on his other side, and Russ picked up his arm so the man could roll over. He curled up small and looked far too vulnerable for someone of his stature. He pushed his head against Russ’s chest and hid there. Russ could not fathom what he was supposed to do. Awkwardly, he petted Milt’s back.

“You know I’m right,” Russ spoke. He let his hand drift up and down with gentle pressure. He fingered the short hair on the back of Milt’s head.

“No,” Milt mumbled against his skin. He knew nothing in that moment except what was in his gut. His gut was an idiot.

“Why me?” Milt singled Russ out often enough and yet his choice never ceased to be surprising. “I mean... me, really?” So many people would love to sleep with Milt, to have a family with him, to plan a family and a relationship. They were ignorant people incapable of seeing past the man’s grinning surface, but they were out there. Russ did not have an exceedingly negative opinion of himself. He did not have low self-esteem. But even he knew there were better prospects for a guy like Milt. “What, ‘cause I’m convenient? ‘Cause the job’s already done?”

Milt laughed. He shook in Russ’s arms with that hissing chuckle. There was such a thin line between mirth and what Russ always assumed was condescension, and he could not tell which this was. Milt put a hand against Russ’s chest and pushed himself up. He had an amused grin on his face. “Russell, you’re not convenient,” he said. “You’re a horrible choice, all around. You’re a stubborn... son of a bitch who refuses to listen to anyone but yourself. You break rules _and_  laws. Now, I’ve seen you be _actually_  good with kids, but you’re a terrible role model.”

“Then why the hell—“

“Because you’re looking for a cause,” Milt said. “You want your life to mean something. You break rules so you can get the bureaucratic tape off your hands and get results, so you can do your best for your city. And that’s admirable, Russ, really. You  _repeatedly_  put your career at risk, even though it’s all you have.”

“It’s not... all... I have.” It was. Russ had nothing of substance in his life but his job. He had no one except the people with whom he worked. Milt called last night and found him available because he was doing nothing with no one.

“I would consider having a child with you for the same reason I wanted you as my partner,” Milt explained. “You’re unconventional, but you’re dedicated. My god, are you dedicated. I think, _maybe_ , you could do something with it besides arrest people.” Russ liked arresting people. “Don’t you want,” he suggested, tempted, “something more?”

Russ rolled onto his back. Clingy Milt followed and pushed himself up against his side with an arm draped over his chest. “I can’t believe,” Russ said, “how many people fall for that phony magnanimous act of yours.” Milt’s fingers dragged across his skin and closed in a loose ball. Yes, Russ saw through him, and Milt hated that. “ _I’ve_  got no substance in my life?” he laughed. “You, you’re perfect but you’re single. You got transferred from Detroit and now spend your free time... _ensnaring_  Battle Creek locals instead of keeping up with your old pals less than two hours away. Did you even have any friends? Is there anybody that calls to check on you? Or did your relationships have such shallow depth that, yeah, they miss you, but they’re not missing anything?” Milt got invited to barbecues and golf games in Battle Creek, but Russ had never seen him visited by someone from his past life. Even the man’s secretary changed out every few weeks. Like in Russ’s life, there was no one, nothing. Milt was stone still next to him. The truth hurt. “You think _I’m_  looking for something to make my life matter?” Russ questioned. “Look in the mirror, pal.”

Milt tapped his fist against Russ, knocking on his breast, idling while he thought. “You’re right.” Being proven right was supposed to be more satisfying than how Russ felt. “It’s just that I... need to do something positive with my life,” Milt confided, and that was what it felt like: a secret. Whatever transgression he left behind him, this was another way of making amends.

“And arresting assholes, saving innocent people isn’t good enough for that?” Russ countered. “Or is it not expedient enough for you? Is having a kid supposed to fast-track your rise to sainthood?”

“No, it’s...” Russ misunderstood him. He saw the shadow of everything Milt said or did, never the light. “I need meaning, Russ,” he said, “just like you. I need something good to come out of why I’m here. I’m alive when good people are dead, and there has to be a reason.” Milt was looking to erase something in his past, balance the scales in some way, but it was not his sole motivation. A child brought many purposes, many meanings. It was a reason to get out of bed. It was a reason to go to work. It was a reason to come home. Milt needed that. They both did, and it was a photo finish over which of them was more pathetic about it. “Living in a small town like this, it’s easy to see what’s missing. In the city, everyone’s so career-oriented, you fall right in line with it. But here? People have a community. They have families. They grew up in Battle Creek and they want to raise their kids here because it’s wholesome.” Russ saw enough of the town’s ugliness that he wanted to object, but he had seen the good, too. “And I,” Milt continued, “thought I could... ignore that, be envious from afar.” He sighed. “Then this happened.” Sometimes, Milt really was no better than him. “I mean, don’t you want someone to come home to at the end of the day?” Milt did, if his words could be believed.

“Maybe,” Russ considered, “sometimes.” He liked his solitude. He hated it. “But being a couple of mutually lonesome sons of bitches is a shit reason to have a baby.”

“Okay,” Milt conceded. He made himself more comfortable wrapped all around Russ. He rested his head on Russ’s shoulder. “Other reasons, let’s talk about them.” He wanted a serious discussion where they treated it like a viable option. Maybe Russ wanted that, too. He must have because he did not get up and leave.

They spoke in circles for so long, both of them presenting theoretical evidence and impassioned arguments, taking each other on like two lawyers in court. The stakes were high, and it seemed as if neither of them wanted to drop the case until every outcome was evaluated.

Milt’s stomach growled beneath Russ’s hand, and it prompted Russ to look at the bedside clock. “Four in the afternoon,” he muttered. They really had been at it all day.

“I’m always hungry after,” Milt said, which meant he had felt that way for some time but said nothing. He did not want to admit to it. He did not want any circumstance in which one of them got out of bed and the discussion was put on hold or given its final verdict.

“Pizza,” Russ suggested. He did not want to cook whatever Milt had in his kitchen. He knew none of it was instant— just fresh ingredients. Russ did not want to make Milt cook for them. The bastard was exhausted, no matter how well he tried to hide it.

“Pizza sounds good,” Milt softly agreed. It could be delivered right to the main door outside.

“I’m thinkin’ like... five of ‘em,” Russ said, and it made Milt smile. They were starving. They could eat on multiple pizzas all night, speak over them, fuel their fire until they were done, until they decided if they would go into work tomorrow or skip it as well.

Russ kept his hand on Milt’s tight, muscular abdomen while he made the call. He liked resting it there. When the order was given and there was nothing but the wait, they endured it in silence. Like it or not, their momentum was disrupted. If there were further plights to make, they were nothing but reworded repetitions of what had already been said.

“I gotta go down in a minute,” Russ said, “meet the guy.” Half-an-hour went by quickly sometimes.

“Yeah.” And because he could never completely turn off the nice guy act, Milt offered, “I don’t mind paying.”

“Shut up,” Russ said. “My treat.” Milt had more in the bank, and there was no doubt behind that. Russ could cover the tab on a few pizzas, however. ‘Providing for Milt’ was not how he wanted to qualify the act, but any stranger looking in would know it was probably just that. Russ leaned up. He kissed Milt’s neck and then his lips. There was an expiration date behind such cavalier romanticism, but Russ could take advantage of kissing that handsome devil just a little while longer. He patted Milt’s stomach and pulled away. “Take a shower,” he said. If nothing else, they were done with sex. That much could be washed away.

Russ slid into the sweatpants he wore over and helped himself to a t-shirt out of Milt’s chest of drawers. He grabbed his wallet.

Milt was still in the shower when he came back seven minutes later. Russ sat on the sofa and started in on a pizza.

It took another fifteen minutes until Milt walked into the den area. He was dressed too much for Russ’s liking. Already, he missed those long lines of skin now hidden by striped cotton pants and a t-shirt.

They really were done with the sex part. It was all winding down. Everything was diluting to that one final moment of truth.

Milt tried to find a comfortable way to sit. He gave up the standard position immediately. Sitting with a leg under him did not work. He attempted putting his weight on his thigh with his legs out to the side, but that did not seem comfortable either. Eventually, he ended up leaning against the arm of the couch, half lying down with his legs open towards Russ as if he were asking for more. Rationale told Russ that was very much not the truth.

He pushed an unopened pizza box over to Milt. “Eat the whole damn thing,” he said. “Screw whatever diet you’re on.” He did not doubt there was one— a strict one. “You guys usually feel bloated around this time anyway, right?” Russ chose tactless facts over sparing any feelings through politically correct treatment.

“Yeah,” Milt tried to laugh. He helped himself to his own pizza.

They ate in oppressive silence. Russ put away four big pieces before he was too full. Milt kept going. His body gave its all to heat. That energy needed to be repleted.

Eventually, he did finish an entire pizza himself. He closed the empty box.

They sat. Milt brought himself up until he was proper and erect as always, like the past day never happened. Russ lounged against the back of the sofa until the moment he sat forward. He doubled over and put his elbows against his knees. His face hid in his palms.

He did not speak. He thought. He put more thought into their situation than any case he ever worked. He came up with every possible outcome, most of which they already discussed. What it always came down to— what gut over logic always came down to— was: what did they want? Milt wanted it. If his idiotic, hormonal, post-heat brain could be trusted, he wanted it. They waited on Russ to make a decision. They waited on him to say what he really wanted instead of presenting rational arguments. Humans were idiots. What they wanted was stupid. They acted unreasonably. They did as they chose instead of what made sense, and it caused problems. That was why Russ hated them.

“God,” he groaned, and he let an aggravated sound grumble from his throat until he ran out of breath. “Are we really doing this?” He picked up his head and looked at Milt. He was so tired. “Are we honest to God doing this? You and me— us— together, we’re doing this?”

Milt looked at him. His hair was combed back while wet, but now that it dried, it fell over his forehead. He smiled. “No,” he said, and he shook his head. “No.” Now, he looked away. He stood up. “It shouldn’t be this hard. If it’s the right choice, you just, you _feel_  it. You don’t debate it into the ground.” When Milt turned around and looked at Russ, he was carefree and charismatic. “You’re right, Russ,” he said. “You were completely right. It was a poorly advised, impulsive decision, and I see that now. I apologize for wasting your time arguing about it. That is completely my fault.”

Russ stood. He walked the few steps to Milt and stared him in those big, brown eyes. “You know something, Agent Chamberlain?” he said. Russ had the best tirade prepared, the kind where Milt would be too ashamed to ever confront him again, ever speak to him about this godforsaken subject again. They would bury it deeper than Jimmy Hoffa, and it would never see the light of day. “You know something?” He jabbed Milt in the chest with a hard finger. Russ had the speech fully prepared in his mind. There were some cruelly scathing sentences in there. Milt would limp from him in disgrace. “I think you lost your superpower last night.” It was not what Russ intended to say at all. It was what he said. “You were a good liar yesterday, maybe the best I’d ever seen, and buddy, that’s saying something. But you lost that, Milt. It’s gone. You dropped your damn shield, and it’s never going back up with me.” Russ stepped away, out of his personal space. “That was a courteousy just now,” he informed. “I wanted to let you know before you tried lying to me again in the future.” Milt opened his mouth with more lies, refusing to believe someone could be immune to them. Russ stopped him. “You want a kid,” he said, “just not one with me.”

“You... are,” Milt slowly admitted, “unsure, Russ. And you’re right. Everything you were saying is right. That’s not the foundation you raise a child on. We should both be all in. You’re not, and I respect that... I will respect that.” For now, he was upset. “It can’t be taken back later. You’re right.”

“Shut up,” Russ ordered. Being told he was right had never pissed him off so greatly. Milt could screw up anything— everything. “C’mere.” Milt stood still, so Russ called him again. “Come here.” The man came to him. Russ put his arms around Milt. He brought the man’s head down to his shoulder, and Milt went right along with it. He let himself sway in Russ’s arms. The bastard was just as vulnerable as the rest of them— humanity. “You really want a baby that bad?”

“Yes,” Milt murmured into his shoulder. “But we—“

“Shut up,” Russ interrupted. “You want a baby?”

“Yes, but, Russ—“

“Shut up.” He asked again: “Do you want a baby?”

“Yes.” By that time, Milt understood to leave his answer hanging there— expressing what he wanted, not logic. That was how people did it, right?

“I like you like this,” Russ said over Milt’s shoulder.

“Honest?”

“Quiet.” It made Milt chuckle.

“You were right though,” he said, spoiling his silence. He put a hand between their bodies and pushed them apart. “It’s a big decision, Russ. We need to... stop it this time.” He would. Milt would take the pill. He would take it a step further if he had to. “We’ll talk it over when we’re more level-headed. After all, we can always plan a conception.”

“‘Plan a conception’?” Russ returned with a scowl. “That’s gotta be the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard. Geez, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You have a better plan,” Milt asked, “or at least better wording?”

“Screw it,” Russ said, completely sincere. “Just screw it all. Don’t do a damn thing. Take a test in a few weeks. If it’s positive, it’s positive. If not, we got our sign, don’t we?”

“Russ,” Milt interjected, “our partnership, not to mention our lives, if it’s positive, we can’t go back to the way things are.”

Russ knew that. “I can go back,” he said. “I go back to partnering with Font. Soon as we gotta spill the beans, we do. Keep going like we are until we can’t, until everybody can,” he gestured at Milt’s stomach, “tell. Then I go back with Font and you recuse yourself from fieldwork.”

“I’m here under assignment to help Battle Creek,” Milt said.

“Oh, and I won’t say no to your resources,” Russ replied. “The useful ones anyway. Don’t need all that cyber crap. You can still be plenty of use to us behind a desk, Agent Chamberlain.” Desk duty did not invalidate him. Pregnancy, being an omega, would not make him anything less. “You can still help investigate crime scenes, do interviews. Just... shootouts, you know, not so much. You’re smart, Milt. You’re charming. You’re, ya know... hot as hell.” Russ had to be honest, even if it pained him physically. “If _anybody_  can do it all, it’d probably be you. I’d put money on it.”

Milt might have blushed if everyone else in the world had not desensitized him to flattery. “Maybe you should say it one more time,” he requested in a soft tone. He wanted absolute clarification. Like Russ said, it was an important decision that had to be made together.

“No pill,” Russ told him. “No... whatever the hell.” They would not interfere in any way. “And I guess we’ll see what we get.” There was little doubt what they would get, but they would play anxiety until then. And if they changed their minds tomorrow, they could change their minds tomorrow. That was the conclusion. The debate was settled and there was nothing more to talk about. “I should probably...” Russ shrugged. “Find my jacket, I guess. Get the hell out of your hair.” He went to the bedroom and grabbed his coat.

“Hey, Russ,” Milt called, as he walked back through. He was hesitant in speaking. “If you wanted to...” He trailed off and left Russ’s intuition to fill in the blank.

“Stay the night?”

Milt nodded.

“Why?”

“I’m not really,” Milt admitted, “ready... to be alone yet— I don’t think. We don’t have to... I’m not saying we would...” He cleared his throat. “I can sleep on the couch.” Milt did not need someone in his bed. He simply did not want to be alone in that big empty warehouse. Russ took no pleasure in turning him down.

“I got... work tomorrow,” he said. “Clothes are at my place. Badge and gun—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Milt interrupted. “No, I completely understand.” What he understood was they both knew Russ could leave a few minutes early in the morning. He could make it to his apartment with plenty of time to dress.

“Listen, uh...” Russ’s hand fiddled with the inside of his pocket. “Call me, man. Don’t hesitate. I’ll keep my phone on. If something comes up, I’ll... You know, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Russell,” Milt said. “That means a lot.” It would have meant more if he stayed, but the sentiment behind that surpassed mere consideration. It would have meant something more if he stayed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Russ said in farewell. He was already looking forward to collapsing in his bed.

“Nah.” Milt nodded his head along as he made the choice to do the bare minimum for once, to give less than 100%. “No, I think I’ll take a personal day. I’m still...”

“Yeah.” Russ understood. “Yeah, you’re beat. I get it. Take a day. Take the weekend. We can hold down the fort. Did it just fine before you waltzed into our lives.” Russ liked having the man in Battle Creek. He had adjusted to life with him. But he would tell that secret to no one, especially Milt. “Keep the pizzas,” he said. There were three left for him to eat on. “Lay around, eat, watch the T.V.”

“Thanks.”

God, it was so awkward. Russ did not do one night stands, not typically. He was vague on the exit protocol. “I’ll see ya.”

“See ya,” Milt returned. He walked Russ to the door.

Half an hour later, Russ’s head hit his pillow. Sheer exhaustion warred with the dozen or so things on his mind and eventually won out.

When Guz skeptically asked where Milt was the next day, Russ did not hesitate in saying he left him stranded in Canada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, one more chapter~!


	3. The Test

Russ did not see or speak with Milt until Monday at the office. He checked up on the man in a nondescript way.

“Doin’ all right?”

“Never better,” Milt replied with that pearly white smile.

“Do anything over the weekend?”

Milt’s expression faltered but he kept that cheerful facade intact. He knew what Russ meant. “Nothing yet,” he said. “You think I should?”

Russ shrugged. “Guess not.” It was a very casual answer considering he spent three days stressing over and berating the decision upon which they landed.

“Well,” Milt said, perfectly accommodating, “let me know if you change your mind.”

“Yeah,” Russ agreed, “same to you.”

Neither of them brought it up for two weeks. Russ supposed that meant they were willing to see it through all the way to a pregnancy test.

+

Daylight dwindled from afternoon into evening, and Russ hoped he would get to leave work in a timely manner. Guz simply needed to wrap up the congratulatory speech she had going in regards to their current (now closed) case. She began winding down, and Russ saw a few of the detectives slowly reach for their coats.

“So good job,” Guz concluded. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll stop talking now so you can do that.”

The group laughed and Russ began shutting down his computer. He was ready to get out of there. So, of course, Milt ruined it.

“Oh, uh, Russ,” he called before the squad disbanded and went home, “I had some paperwork from that last case we did. You forgot to sign. Just need a quick signature or two. It’s on my desk.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Russ replied. “Be right there.” Milt left, and when Russ walked across the hall three minutes later, he could not help but notice, “There are no papers on your desk, Milt.”

Milt opened his desk drawer and took out a white paper bag. He unfolded it and onto the desktop dropped a pregnancy test.

“Jesus,” Russ exclaimed. He looked all around, checking behind glass walls. They were alone. They were not watched. He lowered his voice regardless and hissed, “You haven’t taken it yet?”

“I thought I’d...”

“Wait for me?” Russ questioned. Milt avoided eye contact by looking down at his desk and the test. “Get me to hold your hand?”

“I am a little apprehensive, Russ,” he confirmed.

“Oh.” Russ was taken aback. Milt was usually so confident. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall.”

Russ groaned. “You mean our resident federal agent doesn’t have his own private bathroom?” Russ was surprised. He thought the government surely would have rerouted plumbing for their golden boy. “Just give me paper and a pen.”

“Why?”

“Do it.”

A minute later, Russ taped an “Out of Order” sign on the public bathroom door. They went inside.

“Got your test?” he asked. Milt nodded and held up the box. “Gotta go?” Again, he nodded. “Then get to it. Chop chop.”

Milt opened the box and took out the intimidating piece of plastic. He looked worried, and Russ no longer knew which outcome was wanted.

“Hey.” Russ grabbed him before he peed on the damn stick and gave them their answer. He tried to act a little less callous. “I just want you to know, man...” He cleared his throat. “You know, whichever way this goes, I’m... I’m here.”

Milt smiled. “Thank you, Russ,” he said. “I mean that.” He moved closer in, but Russ put a hand up to stop him.

“Don’t hug me when you have to pee,” he said. “After, all right?” Milt nodded. “Wait ‘til we actually have something to hug over.”

“Right,” he agreed, “of course.”

While Milt unzipped his pants, Russ hopped up on the bathroom counter to wait. Out of boredom, he read the directions that came with the test. “You know,” he informed, “it says this works best when taken first thing in the morning.”

“Should I stop?”

“Is the test already wet?”

Milt answered, “Yes.”

“Then no,” Russ sarcastically said, “I don’t think we should wipe the damn thing off and wait for morning.”

Milt continued until he was through. He hit the urinal handle with the side of his hand to flush it, and he put a little plastic cap over the pregnancy test. “You want to, uh, time that?” he asked Russ while he washed his hands.

Russ looked at his watch to take in the position of the second hand and wait for its return. He flicked the test over so it was facedown on the bathroom counter, no peeking before the end. With much less effort, Milt jumped up to sit beside him.

They waited.

It was a very long and awkward minute. Russ spoke out of obligation to fill the space. “If it’s not... you know,” he said, somehow intimidated by the word ‘positive.’ “If it’s not... If you really want a baby that bad, we can...” Russ had no idea what he was saying, but he was definitely saying it before consulting his brain. “We can.”

“No.” Milt shook his head. “You said so yourself, Russ. If it’s negative, that’s our sign. The odds are so great,” his eyes widened as he was impressed by their sheer magnitude, “so if I’m not... Some things really aren’t meant to be.”

“Yeah,” Russ argued, “well maybe we shouldn’t let a statistic and fate dictate our lives. I mean, how stupid is that? It’s dumb, man.”

“Russ,” Milt cautiously asked, “do you... want a baby?”

The minute ended before Russ had to answer. He used it as an excuse and slipped off the counter. Milt joined him. They stared at the test.

“You want me to read it?” Russ offered. He had a little less on the line.

“Are you good at giving news?” Milt inquired.

“I’m blunt with giving news,” Russ honestly stated. “What’s worse, reading or hearing?”

“Read it.” Milt held the stick out to him. Russ refused to touch the thing and grabbed a paper towel to use as a glove.

“Okay.” He took a breath and turned the test over. “Oh.” He nodded his head. “I guess that’s it then.”

“What?” Milt asked. He was a nervous mess. “What? What’s it say?” He tried to look at the result, but Russ pulled the stick away, sparing him the sight.

“Negative,” he said. “It’s negative, Milt. You’re not... It’s negative.” He folded the paper towel over the test and tossed it on the counter. “I’m sorry.” He patted Milt on the shoulder. “Or congratulations?” He still had no idea what Milt wanted. The man was a vault of secrets.

“No, that’s...” Milt nodded his head, absorbing their answer, their sign. “It wasn’t meant to be, I guess.” He turned away from Russ and rested his hands on the counter. He leaned on them heavily and stared at himself in the mirror before dropping his head. Russ watched a posture that slowly deflated until Milt looked absolutely defeated. His shoulders shook. His voice sobbed. “We got our sign.”

“Oh, crap,” Russ muttered. He knew he messed up telling the man that. “Are you crying?”

“Yes, Russell.” Unfortunately, Milt was not ashamed of his emotions. “I am.”

“Don’t...” Russ sighed. “Please, don’t cry.” He could not handle a grown man crying. “Just, like... come here.” Milt looked over his shoulder with those expressive, teary eyes. “Come here, you big lug.” Milt went to him. He leaned forward and rested his head on Russ’s shoulder. “I told you, man, if you really want a baby _that badly_  we can go again.”

“You don’t mean that.” Milt was convinced he had him figured out.

“Hey.” Russ pushed him away. “I am not some heroic, self-sacrificing asshole. You got that? I don’t offer unless I mean it. Because, frankly, I’m not going to make my life miserable and some kid’s life miserable just so you can be happy.” Russ stared at Milt and those tears that began clearing up. “When I say I’ll knock you up, it means I already made my choice. What’s yours, Milt?” He did not have one immediately ready, and that let Russ know he did not have one at all. “Or were you just gonna accept whatever answer you got? Huh? Be a good boy and take the life you’re given?” Milt looked down at the floor. “There is no fate,” Russ told him. “You tell me, right here, right now, do you want a baby or don’t you?”

Milt’s response was too quiet to be understood.

“What?” Russ demanded.

“Yes!” Milt said. He looked Russ in the eye. “Yes, I want a baby... with you. I want your baby, and I will... sleep with you, Russ, as many times as it takes.” Finally, Milt found some resolve and a little backbone. He verbalized the selfishness Russ knew was there.

“Good.” Russ grabbed Milt’s shoulder and shook him around. They both smiled. “And thank God you picked that one,” he said, “because the test was positive.”

“The... Wha...” Milt stammered. “The test was... You’re telling me... the test was positive?”

“Yes.”

“You lied?”

“Yes.” Russ opened the paper towel and turned the stick around so Milt could read the real result. It was promptly snatched out of his hand and investigated closer, not that Russ was lying this time. “I don’t trust you, Milt,” he said. “You telling me you’re okay with it doesn’t mean shit. Now, I know...” Russ shook his head. “Now, we both know how you really feel. You’d do it again, right now, because you want a kid. No way was I telling you the truth first. Then we’d never know how you felt. I don’t know about you, but I’m not living the rest of my life that way.”

“Russ.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “It was a real insensitive thing to do. I promise I’ve learned nothing from the experience, but I will give you one free sucker punch if you wanna get back at me.”

“Russ,” Milt said more urgently.

“I’d do it again.” He would.

“Russ.”

“What, Milt? What?”

“I’m pregnant?” He looked relieved. He looked excited.

“Yeah, Milt, that’s what the positive means.” He pointed at the stick.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” Milt continued to speak, rambling through the obvious. “You and me— we... We are going to have a baby.”

Somehow, despite the multiple weeks and various conversations, Russ failed to really put it all together in their living reality. It was no longer some hypothetical child. It was not a debate on whether or not they would make good parents. There was an actual growing child. He and Milt would sink or swim.

“You’re pregnant,” he said. “We’re gonna be parents.” Russ put a hand on either side of his head and pulled his hair. “Holy shit!”

“You didn’t put that together, Russ?” Milt questioned. “We talked about it nonstop.”

“I’m a planner, Milt,” he stated, “a detective. It’s what I do! I- I reverse engineer crime scenes. I don’t actually commit the crimes.”

“What we did wasn’t illegal, Russ,” Milt explained to him very plainly.

“I got you pregnant.” Russ got his partner— his colleague— pregnant.

“I was there,” Milt said with a nod.

“A kid!”

“A kid,” he confirmed.

“What the hell am I gonna do with a kid?” Russ demanded. “Who in their right mind would give me a kid? Who would give _you_  a kid?” On the surface, Milt was a perfect human being who excelled in everything he touched. Russ knew him better than that. “This was a mistake.” He got that now.

“Everything will be fine,” Milt assured him in a calm voice.

“‘Everything will be fine’?” Russ mocked. What an unfounded, idiotic, idealistic sentiment. “There’s what, like, two _hundred_  things that can go wrong during pregnancy? Then the birth. Then they’re this ridiculously fragile little drool monkey. SIDS is still a thing, you know. And they’re expensive. God, they’re expensive. You got, what? Damn... diapers, food (you gotta feed the bastards), clothes, education. I drive a car that starts two out of three times. Do you _think_  I’m putting a kid through college?”

“Typically,” Milt said, “when applicable, expenses are shared.” There were two of them, and Milt had a much nicer paycheck.

“Like we didn’t already know you’d be the favorite,” Russ scoffed. “Buying them everything they want. Thanks for rubbing that in.”

“I don’t think—”

“God!”

Russ freaked out, and Milt let him work through it. He grabbed the test’s box from the counter and dropped the stick down inside, probably to tape it into a scrapbook or some other weird crap. Like Russ, he also glanced over the instructions. His face fell.

“What?” Russ questioned. It was something serious.

“Nothing,” Milt dismissed. “Nothing. It’s just...” He shook his head and turned away. “You read it wrong, Russ. The result is...” He laughed and it was sad, upset. He let his arms fall against his sides and spun back around to face Russ. “I’m not pregnant.” Milt smiled reassuringly but his eyes lacked that special light. “You can... We can calm down now.” There was nothing to worry about.

“What? No.” Russ could not believe what he was hearing. The even bigger surprise was he was upset by it. There was no baby. Russ felt an emptiness, a loss. “No, we...”

“I know you want to be stubborn and ignore them,” Milt said, “but this is a sign, Russ.”

It really was, and he could not shrug it off. Omegas in heat almost always got pregnant. Milt did not. Russ never read the directions on any product, so of course the one time he did, he got it wrong. He got Milt’s hopes up. It was a sign, and Russ could not ignore it. “Man, screw that.” He could, however, defy it. “You buy another damn test, and you piss on it first thing, like the instructions say.” They did it wrong. They got another chance because they did it wrong.

“Russ,” Milt said. He was sympathetic. “Russell, it’s negative, all right? Some things aren’t meant to be, and this is one of them. I wanted a child, but the writing’s on the wall.” He sighed. “Let it go.”

“No.” Russ shook his head. He was an obstinate son of a bitch. “No, let’s have the kid. You and me, Milt. We’re not getting any younger. Right?” That was the prevailing argument, the time sensitive issue.

Milt grinned at him. There was that twinkle in his eye. He got all chipper again knowing Russ would not drop it. “Right.”

“You can... come back to my place,” Russ suggested, “right now, tonight. I’ll light a damn candle, if you’re into that. I’m not making you breakfast in bed, but I’ll put coffee on, grab some donuts on the way to work. What do you think?”

Milt was a little surprised, a little speechless. “I think,” he said, “that is proportionately romantic to your character, Russ.”

“You’re damn right I’m romantic.” He would light two candles, put on some easy listening. They would go to bed, and it would be sweet, no tension. Milt would be in a better place mentally and emotionally. That always increased the odds. Russ stepped closer to Milt and let his fingers touch the expensive fabric of his suit. He held the man’s tie in a loose grip he hoped was seductive. “You want a baby and I want a baby,” he said. “So the only real question here is... why aren’t we making one?”

“Privacy,” Milt answered.

“We got a sign on the door.”

“A bed.”

“Short drive to my place if you wanna wait.”

“Redundancy.”

“We can— Wait, what? Redundancy?” What the hell did that mean? Did Milt only sleep with someone once? It was hardly surprising given his unending line of prospects. “Look, I know I’m not _as_  attractive as you.” They were on slightly different rankings, and Russ was modest enough to admit that. “But you don’t want...” He felt stupid.

“No, no, I do want,” Milt insisted. He smiled that stupid charming grin. “But I’m already pregnant, Russ. The test _is_  positive. And now we know how you feel.”

“You... You...” Russ put a hand to his temple. “You son of a bitch!” He punched Milt in the arm— hard. “What the hell’s the matter with you, doing that to a guy?”

“Are you serious right now?” Milt returned, equally offended. “You did the same exact thing to me. You did it to me first.”

“Manipulative bastard!” Russ ranted. “Show me the test.”

“What?”

“Test,” Russ demanded, “out of the box. Answer key in your hand. We are confirming this— together— once and for all.” They could not trust each other. Milt complied and took out the test.

“Two lines,” he pointed.

“Right,” Russ agreed, seeing them very clearly.

“Two lines in the picture,” Milt compared. There was a diagram with big, bold print detailing what each result meant. It was very simple. One line had the word “Negative” typed out next to it. Two lines had the word “Positive.”

“So...” Russ felt a little lightheaded again.

“I’m pregnant,” Milt concluded, “with a baby we both want.” It was good news. They had decided it was good news.

“Yeah.” Russ actually smiled. “Yeah, a baby we both want.” He felt oddly relieved. “A baby.” It was so normal, despite the circumstances, despite his partner. It was something Russ never earnestly considered, something that, until now, he was convinced he did not want. Of course it had to be unplanned and unconventional. That was probably the only way he would let it happen. “I’m gonna be a dad. I’m gonna be somebody’s dad.”

“Can we hug now?” Milt asked. He was antsy for it, bouncing on his toes.

“We can hug now,” Russ permitted.

They came together. Russ rested his head on Milt’s shoulder, and Milt did the same. Their embrace was tight but not constricting, comforting and not confining. They simply held each other, their partner, and swayed a little back and forth in a public bathroom.

“Is that pee stick,” Russ questioned, “pressing into my back?”

“I put the cap over that part.”

“Get the pee stick out of my back, Milt.”

They pulled apart, hug time over. That small amount of physical contact helped, however. Russ was a little more at peace. He felt at ease around Milt, just like in the afterglow of when they conceived. In an unplanned, simultaneous coincidence, they both took a deep breath in and sighed.

“A baby,” Russ murmured. He was still having trouble cementing the idea in his mind, making it a tangible reality. He leaned too far in the abstract or worried an unrealistic amount over expenses and ways the two of them could screw up a child. It would hit him later, some equilibrium of a plan.

“We can take another test in the morning,” Milt suggested, “just to make sure.” He was a man obsessed with what he saw at face value and whatever results he received through tests.

“You take it,” Russ said. He humored Milt’s preparedness, but he accepted their current answer. “Let me know the result when I get into work tomorrow— or call, I guess.”

“I thought...” Milt was confused. “I thought we were going back to your place... A candle?” He tried to refresh Russ’s memory. “Coffee tomorrow?”

Now, Russ was confused. “Yeah,” he slowly said, “to make a child. That’s not necessary anymore, Milt. Mission accomplished.”

“I just thought that...” He was embarrassed and unable to finish his remark.

“You thought there was more to it,” Russ surmised. Milt thought they were starting something. “We... what? Do sleepovers, do dinners, keep a toothbrush at each other’s place? That’s not a planned conception, Milt,” he said. “That’s a planned relationship.”

“Is that so bad?” Milt timidly replied. It was the natural process: have sex, have a baby, have a relationship, get to know each other better. There were worse things.

“Why me?” Russ had to ask, just as he asked when Milt picked him to be his partner, when he picked him for his heat, when he picked him to be his child’s father. “I mean, me... of all people, why?” If there were a more articulate question, he could not come up with it. He kept rephrasing the one he had. “You and me— _me_ — why?”

Milt smiled. “I trust my gut, Russ,” he said. “It may not always be right, but... you haven’t let me down yet. That counts for something.”

“It counts towards a partnership— maybe,” Russ argued, “not a- a relationship.”

“I like you, Russ.” For Milt, it was that simple. He always knew what he wanted, and he always got what he wanted. “We’re a good balance. It’s made us good partners, and it’ll make us great parents. Who’s to say a relationship won’t balance out just as well?” He had a decent point, which Russ refused to admit. “Plus, the sex was fantastic,” he added.

“The sex was good, wasn’t it?” Russ had to agree. He had to. It was the truth. And it was not like he was flattering Milt either because he gave the bulk of the credit to himself, but he let the agent believe whatever he wanted. “Like, really good. Like hate sex mixed with heat sex, working together in just...”

“A really good balance,” Milt finished.

“Yeah,” Russ said, “a really good balance.” Maybe that was the key. That was how they worked and how they would succeed. A relationship was worth a shot, was it not? It would undoubtedly crash and burn, but the ride down could be fun. “But we take separate cars.”

“Deal.”

They could at least try and avoid detection a little longer.

As they lay in a candlelit bed an hour later with Russ’s hand over the man’s deceptively and innocently flat stomach, he asked, “Just curious— you know, with this being a small town and all— what, uh, what store did you buy that test from?”

“Pharmacy down the street from the station,” Milt answered. “Why?” He saw no harm in it.

“Nothing,” Russ said with a grin and a chuckle. “Nothing, Milt.” The man still did not understand how small, gossipy towns worked.

He got it a little better the next morning when every set of eyes in the office looked at him wrong— too long or not long enough.

“Relax,” Russ tried to reassure him when they were alone in Milt’s car. “They don’t know it was positive, they don’t know it was for you, and they don’t know it was me that did it. We got a month or two to ride this out.” He found the situation highly amusing.

“Yeah, you’re right. But I think next time I’ll order online and have the test shipped to my door,” Milt considered.

It took Russ two full minutes to find something wrong with that statement. “Wait, what do you mean ‘next time’?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Milt’s already planning a second kid. He’s gonna want that perfect, two-child family. Get out now, Russ. Hahaha. They’ll be great parents though. They’re surprisingly good with kids, and they really have the good cop/bad cop routine down. They got this.
> 
> I think the absolute BEST way for the secret to come out would be in the events of the finale. When the man has Milt in the trunk and asks if he has kids. Milt says no. But then from the side, an angry, desperate Russ exclaims that Milt’s pregnant. Making that guy the official first person they tell. Followed by an impassioned speech to spare Milt because the baby in him didn’t do anything. And then when Font gets there, it’s repeated by someone. And definitely by Russ to the paramedics. Basically it gets out in a big, unplanned dramatic way.


End file.
